Original Contemporary Poetry about the Human Condition

Silent Frames | A Poem by Ralph Monday

An urge always exists to relive our days,Wind back the clock to observe selvesReliving regrets in silent movie frames,No color to our lives. Instead, we tiredlyMove as underworld shades physically muteTo the past pain of thoughtless words that weCast on others like reams of sticky cobwebs,Magician forming in those days the tomorrowTemplate that clings like foul smoke.Our present, beads of spit, oil, sour tastesTilled from that salted earth.